


Second Life

by Neko_Kururu



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hospitals, M/M, Serious Injuries, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neko_Kururu/pseuds/Neko_Kururu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do if you were given a second lease on life?<br/>Would you go back to how things were or would you change completely?<br/>If you decided to change... would it be for the best?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I come to you with a new fic that can be nicely described as an "emotional rollercoaster", so... strap yourselves in and enjoy the ride!
> 
> (Also: please note that the Burners are in their early to mid 20s here.)

**\--Prologue--**

_Everything hurt._

Everything was on fire and there was blood and noise and _pain_. So much pain. Chuck tried to yell, call out for help, but he choked on his own blood and only managed to let out a gurgling sound. He wavered, fell to his knees and retched, head spinning and every fiber of his being begging him to stop the hurt. There was so much noise, so much movement happening all around him but his head spun so bad he couldn’t get a grip on his situation.

Chuck wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest, close his eyes and maybe sleep a little, but the part of his brain still focused on the here and now, on his very survival, was screaming at him to keep moving. _Move away or you’re going to die_ , it told him. So he somehow pulled himself up and continued to stumble forward, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and pressing the other against the bleeding wound in his abdomen.

All he could do was move forward and hope the others were still alive.

_This is not how the mission should have gone._

After several alarms and an urgent call for help, Mike Chilton and his Burners had all driven out to deal with the Terras who were lashing out against Motorcity in an attempt to draw them out. It seemed the bio-warriors wanted revenge after the gang had ruined their latest ploy to destroy Deluxe, with Kaia herself leading the assault and manipulating some impressive new plant-based weaponry.

They should have been able to deal with this. They _had_ been dealing with the situation but the tides shifted against them when Kane’s robotic forces appeared out of the blue and launched their own attack. Julie had had no warning; despite her inside connections, she never foresaw this attack, never found any evidence that it had been planned in the first place. She swore up and down that it _still_ wasn’t in any schedule she could find or hack into. Chuck confirmed as much when he ran his own search to figure out what they were up against. The answer to this mystery became clear when Red’s hovering tank of a car appeared out of nowhere, alongside some upgraded Hounds. After declaring his obviously murderous intent, Red and the Hounds targeted Mutt so they had no choice but to fight back against him and his forces, too.

Mike and the Burners could deal with the Terras, Mike and the Burners could deal with Red and his pets, but Mike and the Burners could _not_ deal with their combined forces. One would think that in a situation like this, the Burners would manage to strike a temporary truce with the Terras but bio-warriors the were so intent on eradicating them from the face of the earth that they only spent half their resources fighting back the Kanebot invasion. The remaining strength was sent after Mike and the rest of them, just as eager for their demise as Red and his deadly robotic dogs.

_Everything went so wrong, so fast._

Chuck’s knees suddenly gave out and he found himself face down in the dirt, upraised dust getting into his already burning lungs and sending him into a coughing fit that saw him spitting up more blood. Somewhere close by, an explosion rattled the ground and sent bits of metal and brick and other debris flying in his direction. Chuck threw his hands over his head and cringed, but thankfully nothing big hit him, just small scraps and more dust. He wheezed, trying to push himself back up on his feet, only to find that his arms would not cooperate, either.

He did better the second try and managed to sit on his knees, giving himself a moment to gather his bearings before eventually standing back up. He flinched at the sound of gunfire but it was distant, possibly echoing off the abandoned buildings and throwing his senses off. Part of Chuck was amazed that he had not been spotted by either enemies since he had gotten separated from Mike.

He shuddered, hoping against all odds that Mike was alive somewhere or, god willing, looking for him.

_Why did this happen? How?_

One of the Hounds got lucky and managed to rip half of Mutt’s roof off while another had shattered the window, leaving the driver’s side woefully exposed to their attacks. Mike was doing his best to dodge incoming, well, _everything_ and dish out his own offense. Meanwhile, Chuck was trying to figure a way to shut all the bots off, which would cut down on hostiles considerably. The blonde was so overwhelmed by everything and at the same time so focused on his computers that he had no time to scream or panic. The only times he opened his mouth were to shout warnings or commands to Mike and the others.

Somewhere to his left an alarm went off but he did not have the time to check it before Mutt suddenly entered freefall. Red’s tanker had materialized like a demon out of hell and rammed them at full speed, crunching into Mike’s side of the car with a sickening sound. He knocked them through the barrier and off the edge of the bridge they had been on. Chuck screamed Mike’s name, growing horrified when he realized that the brunette seemed to have lost consciousness.

He braced for impact, praying to every deity in existence for them to survive the plunge in one piece.

_How did it get so bad?_

Chuck was barely holding on to consciousness. When his eyes focused again, he found himself on the ground, half-crawling on his elbows and knees. With a weak groan, he rolled himself onto his back, muscles aching from the sheer effort it took. He had lost so much blood- _continued_ to lose blood, so long as his heart pumped in his chest. Chuck wasn’t sure even that would last much longer; his head felt fuzzy, vision wavering every few minutes, and breathing had become more difficult than it had a right to be.

Suddenly, Chuck felt every hair on his body stand on end as the atmosphere became both heavy and electric at once. Everything was painfully silent for several heartbeats, which the blonde counted idly, then...

His eyes focused just in time to see the Kanebots overhead drop out of the sky, inert and powered down. It seemed like they were falling in slow motion, a loud whistling sound filling the air while some distant cheering reverberated through the ruins. Chuck afforded himself a small smile.

“They did it.” He said to himself, voice barely a whisper, “They got the EMP cannon to work...”

Chuck sighed and closed his eyes. Now that Kane’s robots were out of the picture, he had faith that they would win, faith that the Burners would eventually find him and take him home. He felt like he could sleep for a year.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

The voice sent a shiver down his spine; Chuck didn’t even have to look to know who it was but he looked anyway, vision blurry but the figure unmistakable. Red stood over him, his armour ripped all over and blood leaking from a nasty gash at his side. Even with the banged-up helmet, the blonde knew he was smirking behind that cracked black screen. It made him feel sick.

With a strength he didn’t know he had, Chuck rolled back over to his hands and knees and tried to crawl away. Part of him knew this was an utterly futile attempt but he had to try, had to hope someone would find him before he...

Before he died.

“Look at the little piggy, trying to get away!” Red taunted, slowly limping toward him, “Not so brave without Chilton by your side, are you piggy?” There was a strange shrillness to his voice.

Chuck wheezed, cutting one of his palms deeply on some twisted piece of metal. He barely felt it though, and continued to drag himself forward anyway, blood trailing behind him. Terrified and weak though he was, he wasn’t about to give this psychopath the satisfaction of seeing him give up. He was a Burner and Burners did _not_ give up.

“Here piggy, here piggy, piggy!” Red howled, his pain and madness ringing clearly in his voice, “You’re so pathetic! Here, let me put you out of your misery!”

He suddenly kicked Chuck hard in the ribs, cutting his breath short and making him fall down to the ground. Chuck curled into himself protectively, trying not to cry out from the agony.

“Aw, did I hurt you? Did big bad Red break some ribs? I think he did, oh yes, he did.” He walked around him then kicked him again, this time right between Chuck’s shoulders, delighting in the blonde’s hoarse scream, “Oh my, what a beautiful sound! I wonder if I can make you do it again?”

The last thing Chuck remembered was Red laughing breathlessly, then a sharp blow to the back of his head followed by fulgurating pain and then... nothing.

_Nothing at all._


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays and a joyous New Year!
> 
> (I hope you have plenty of tissues for this update.)

**\--Chapter 1--**

_I am alive._

That singular concept reverberated throughout Chuck’s entire being without him truly realizing it, as if it had been born not of his mind but from his very body, his every cell celebrating at once, relieved to have their existence reaffirmed by his coming back to.

Consciousness came slowly but when it finally came, Chuck found that his eyes were already open, had been open long before his psyche could catch up. It took him a long time to focus though, and even longer to realize only one eye was actually working. It seemed that something was covering the other but he couldn’t muster the strength to move his hand and check what it was. In fact, he couldn’t muster the strength to do anything besides blink slowly and breathe long, heavy breaths.

So Chuck waited, awake but not fully alert. He waited for the rest of his senses to catch up to him and for his thoughts to recollect, moving through his mind as though it was filled with thick molasses.

It felt like an eternity punctuated by blackouts before Chuck became more aware of himself and his surroundings. He still couldn’t move, his entire body numb and heavy, but he could hear and taste and smell a little better than before. His sense of touch was still grossly lacking however, as was his ability to talk --not that he felt much like talking right then. So he laid there waiting still, biding his time and wishing he could put the pieces of his broken memories back together.

At one point Chuck realized he had dozed off, though what he thought had been a split-second blink had in fact been a blackout of a much longer period of time. He startled when his hearing suddenly picked up indistinct chatter and a steady beeping sound somewhere off to his left. With his functioning eye, he scanned what he could see and understood that he was indoors. Moving his head to further explore his surrounding was, however, out of the question as he still could not feel the strength to do anything. Taking a deep breath, he registered the smell of plastic and disinfectant.

With that information, coupled with his own returning common sense, Chuck came to the conclusion that he was in a hospital. This was both good and bad news. Good news: he was alive and being taken care of. Bad news: his friends were nowhere to be found and hospitals always put him on edge.

Taking another deep breath, he forced himself to relax; there was nothing he could do right now beside rest and recuperate. He closed his eye, let his mind wander off on its own, and eventually fell asleep.

The third time Chuck woke --at least he thinks it’s the third time-- he was in pain all over and suddenly regretted everything ever. Thankfully, his consciousness was out as fast as it had come in.

The next time Chuck woke, he felt considerably better. This time, the pain was muted and all his senses were accounted for... and Chuck immediately wished they weren’t.

Firstly, he was in a considerate amount of discomfort; his whole body ached dully, his nose itched something fierce, his mouth felt dry and pasty at the same time, his ears rang a little, and the sharp scent of disinfectant was almost overwhelming.

To make matters worse, Chuck became very aware that he had tubes in his nose, one inserted intravenously in his left arm, and a few more in other places he really didn’t want to think about... and then really wished he couldn’t feel because now that he knew the tubes were there, he wanted nothing more than to take them out. He could almost feel the needles under his skin and the vague sensation made his stomach turn.

Chuck tried to focus, tried to will his limbs to move, but got nothing in return. 

_Okay, start small._

He took a deep breath and began with his fingers. It took a few tries and a lot of patience, but slowly he had regained some control, could move each one individually or all of them together. He was relieved that he had some tactile sensitivity back, as well; the fabric under his fingertips was soft and slightly textured.

Next, Chuck tried rotating his wrists but a piercing pain shot up his left arm and made him gasp drily, body shivering in shock.

_Okay, only the right one then._

The moment the pain subsided, Chuck tried again with his right wrist only. He was relieved when nothing bad happened --just a dull throb in his palm-- so he continued working his way up. Unfortunately, he had to stop at the elbow because the rest of his arm felt too heavy to lift, but he still considered this a small victory.

A victory which he quickly rewarded with a nap. Chuck hoped that the next time he woke, he would be able to finally sit up and call for someone, or at the very least, scratch his nose.

When Chuck came to again, he paused and waited and... Yes, he finally had a winner: the pain was distant, his thoughts were mostly there and all his senses were accounted for --even those he kind of wished he didn’t have but also one he hadn’t expected. A sixth sense, really, which told him that for the first time since he started falling in and out of consciousness, there was someone else in the room with him.

The blonde turned his head slowly -- _another victory!_ \-- and was met with a familiar face, brown eyes wide in a mix shock and disbelief.

“Chuck?”

“Hi Mikey...” He replied, voice cracked from disuse and sounding almost foreign to his own ears.

Mike took Chuck’s right hand into his, his touch as light and gentle as though he were dealing with a piece of glass that could shatter at any moment. Slowly, he brought it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back, near the first two knuckles. Chuck didn’t really grasp the meaning behind the gesture but he appreciated it nonetheless, smiling a little at how happy Mike looked doing it.

Then the first tear started rolling down Mike’s cheek and Chuck’s smile faded.

“Mike?” He called out, despising how weak his voice sounded.

“It’s okay Chuckles.” Mike smiled through his tears, “It’s okay, I just... I’m just glad you’re awake.”

Chuck tried to move his hand closer and Mike instinctively understood, placing it against his cheek for him, tilting his head into the touch. It took a bit of effort but Chuck managed to wipe the tears away with his thumb, ignoring the itchy sensation in his palm and focusing instead on Mike’s face. It was so familiar but there was also something new there; he looked older somehow, worn out.

Their intimate moment was shattered when a nurse came in while on rounds, saw them, then ran back out while shouting “He’s awake!” and calling for the doctor in charge. The next hour or so occurred in a blur for Chuck. A nurse raised his bed so that he was almost in a sitting pose. Then suddenly, there were people everywhere; Mike had whispered a few soothing words before he was replaced with an old man in a white lab coat. This man asked the blonde dozens of questions while he poked and prodded and shined a light in his uncovered eye. Chuck did his best to answer them all as coherently as he could while trying to stay calm. Around him, several nurses moved about, some of them running diagnostics with the help of the machines near the bed, while others checked his tubes and compared notes, and did other things Chuck couldn’t really see or understand.

He was just starting to feel distressed, a low whine escaping him, when Mike moved aside a nurse and reappeared by his bed. He took Chuck’s hand into his and uttered a new string of reassurances, kissing the back of it a few times in between words. Everyone around them noticed how that seemed to calm the blonde right down so no one asked Mike to leave again.

When the nurses finally departed, Chuck let out a long shaky sigh, releasing all the tension that had built up within him. He turned his head and watched Mike talk with the old doctor just outside the room --too far for him to catch more than random bits of their conversation. It was only then that Chuck realized Mike was not wearing his jacket. In fact, he wasn’t even wearing his usual clothes; instead, he wore a loose white t-shirt and equally loose white pants, the ensemble contrasting sharply with his dark complexion. Chuck also noticed that Mike was holding himself up on a pair of metal crutches, his left leg encased in plaster from foot to just below his knee.

He wanted to ask Mike about what happened to him and how the others were, too, and- and- What the hell had happened to Red? Or to him? And what about their fight against the Terras? Against Kane?

Chuck had to stop himself when his head started spinning as fast as his thoughts. He swallowed dryly, fairly certain that he wasn’t strong enough to carry on much of a conversation just then. He forced himself to take his time --Mike would probably tell him all about it, anyway.

“Hey buddy.” Mike said to him as he made his way back to his side, “How are you feeling?”

Chuck noticed that his tone was somewhat strained but he did not comment on it, merely croaked out, “Could be better.”

Mike laughed quietly but the blonde didn’t feel any warmth or humour from it. Part of Chuck cringed, wondering what the doctor had told the brunette to make him act that way.

Then it hit him.

“How long?” Chuck whispered. He feared the answer but he also needed to know if his suspicion was right.

Unfortunately the other feigned ignorance, a fake smile on his lips, “How long what? You mean what time is it? I think it’s a little after five.”

Chuck huffed. He may not have been strong enough to cross his arms in frustration but he could glare at Mike well enough, even with one eye.

“What _day_ is it?” He hissed out.

Had their world been a cartoon, Mike’s smile would have fallen off his face and shattered on the ground like glass. It seemed like Mike had dreaded the question and had been hoping he wouldn’t be the one to answer it; Chuck could tell that much from the pained look on the brunette’s face.

“Mikey.” He tried again, softly.

Faced with Mike’s reluctance, Chuck almost felt bad for asking --almost. He still wanted a definite answer. He _needed_ to know.

“The seventh of March.” The other eventually said, voice full of anguish.

The blonde thought about it, thought back to the last time he had checked a calendar, dug deep in his memories to recall on what day the attack had happened. It took him a bit, during which time Mike sat down on the stool by Chuck’s bed and waited with his eyes downcast. Finally, Chuck remembered and the realization felt like a stab to the heart.

“A month?” Chuck said, voice just above a whisper in his disbelief.

“Yes.” Mike nodded, taking Chuck’s hand into his once more, “Thirty-three days, in fact.”

“Oh.” The blonde replied simply.

Chuck regretted the sound even as it left his lips but what else was he supposed to say to that? What was even appropriate? “I’m sorry” came to mind but he knew Mike would just get mad at him for apologizing when it wasn’t his fault. Still, the thought remained and even expanded to include “I’m sorry for scaring you”, “I’m sorry for making you worry”, and “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough”. That was all Chuck could come up with, guilt was all he could feel, so in the end he said nothing at all.

Mike studied him, and perhaps he glimpsed some of Chuck’s internal struggle because he once again brought the blonde’s hand up to his face and kissed it gently, lips lingering there until Chuck looked at him.

“You don’t have to say anything, okay?” Mike told him, placing the blonde’s hand against his cheek like earlier, “Just... relax. I’m here for you.”

Chuck sighed deeply, forcing himself to let go of all the negative thoughts building up inside of his head --it was hard but he managed to shove them to the very back of his mind. At least for the moment, he was peaceful. He gently stroked Mike’s skin with his thumb, smiling a little when the brunette closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

After a moment, Mike pulled his stool a little closer and laid his head down on the bed, crossed arms pillowing him. Chuck moved his hand from Mike’s cheek to his head, loving the sensation of the brunette’s thick hair at his fingertips. He brushed it slowly, more like a caress than the usual hair-ruffling they were used to giving each other; this was much more tender and intimate and Chuck reveled in it.

“Julie and Dutch will be here in a little while.” Mike told him after a moment, voice a little muffled, “They got the call from the hospital after the doctor checked you over.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.”

For now, it was just the two of them and Chuck was okay.

~*~

When Dutch and Julie finally arrived, they found the pair just as they had been for the past half hour: with Mike sitting on the stool and resting his head on the bed while the Chuck absentmindedly pet his hair. They stopped in the doorway, hesitating; they would have liked nothing more than to run up to the bed and shower Chuck with their affection but at the same time they didn’t want to interrupt. They were also afraid they might spook Chuck and that was the last thing they wanted.

Thankfully, Chuck sensed their arrival and turned his head to look at them, his hand coming to a halt atop of Mike’s head. Mike felt him stop and after a moment, he raised his head slowly, looking at Chuck before turning to see what he was staring at.

“Jules, Dutch.” Mike smiled tiredly at them, “Thanks for coming.”

That was their cue. Julie came in ahead of the other and hugged Mike tight before she turned to Chuck, a small smile on her lips. She kept a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, squeezing gently to show her support, then sat at the very end of the bed. Meanwhile, Dutch pat Mike on his back before going to stand at the foot of Chuck’s bed, leaning on his hands against the guardrail there.

“Hey Chuck.” Julie greeted, “Welcome back.”

“Hi Julie.” Chuck replied softly before turning to the artist, “Hi Dutch.”

“Hey buddy.” Dutch smiled, “Would’ve brought Roth, too, since the little guy misses you but I think the nurses would have gotten mad.”

Chuck said nothing for a while. He studied both Burners before glancing at the doorway and then turning to Mike.

“Where’s Texas?”

All three immediately heard the worry in his voice and rushed to reassure him. “Texas is okay!” Julie said. “He’s okay!” Mike echoed her. “He just couldn’t make it out to see you.” Dutch added.

“He has a physiotherapy appointment.” Julie specified. Then, when Chuck seemed confused, she added with a small laugh, “He’s just knocked his shoulder loose from punching too hard.”

“I never thought that was possible, so imagine _his_ reaction.” Dutch joked lightly.

“But he’ll be back to punching things and pranking us in no time.” Julie assured him with a smile, “He’s already tried a few times, actually, despite what the therapist told him.”

Chuck just nodded and the room fell into an awkward silence. Julie and Dutch exchanged uneasy looks before both turned their attention to Mike, hoping he would lead them into some sort of light conversation. Mike didn’t notice their looks though; he was busy watching Chuck, almost as if he were afraid the blonde would fall back into a coma at any moment.

“So, um…” Began Dutch, unsure of what he should say but going for it anyway, “Should- should we bring you something? Like, do you need anything?”

Julie latched on to the conversation, “Oh, yes. Something to read? Or maybe a movie? One of your favourites?”

Chuck slowly shook his head then dropped his gaze, once again allowing the room to grow silent. After a moment Mike went back to resting his head on the bed, pleased when Chuck noticed and began petting his hair again. Meanwhile, the remaining two Burners exchanged glances, each waiting for the other to speak first but neither willing to make the first move.

Eventually, it was Chuck who broke the heavy silence.

“What happened that day?”

The already quiet room went deathly silent at his words, a chill briefly passing through the three of them. Clearly none of them had been expecting this question to come up so soon.

“It’s kind of a long story...” Dutch began slowly.

“Yeah, so... maybe when you’re feeling a bit better, we can talk about it?” Julie followed up.

The blonde stopped his petting and looked at them impassively, which made Julie and Dutch a little uncomfortable. They weren’t used to him being so quiet or emotionless, and quite frankly, they hoped it wasn’t a permanent change.

“I need to know.” Chuck told them after a long moment.

The two Burners exchanged glances, then looked down at Mike. The brunette felt their eyes on him but did not move --he was not going to help recapitulate for the umpteenth time and the two didn’t blame him. After all, he was the one who had suffered the most from it.

“I _need_ to know.” Chuck repeated, more insistent now.

After much hesitation, Dutch yielded.

“Alright...” He straightened up and glanced at Mike one more time before asking, “What’s, uh... what’s the last thing you remember from that day?”

The blonde raised his eye to the ceiling, trying to focus and dig as far back as he could.

“I remember Mutt crashing.” He said as the memory suddenly flashed before him.

Mike flinched. Chuck felt the involuntary jerk, sensed the tension that had gripped Mike, and instinctively began stroking his best friend’s hair again. That seemed to calm Mike, his shoulders slumping back down. Chuck waited another minute before continuing softly.

“We managed to get out of Mutt but I think Red was on our tail so we- We had to get to safety. We ended up inside an abandoned factory and we were fighting against some Terras who got the jump on us... At some point I got separated from Mike. I was- I was wandering through the ruins, trying to find some cover or to find one of you.” Chuck frowned, reaching farther back, trying to unlock more memories, “There was an explosion.”

He gasped suddenly and sharply, startling the three around him. One of the monitors started beeping warningly, his heart rate spiking.

“Chuck?” Mike called out, sitting up and taking the blonde’s hand into his, “What’s wrong?”

“Chuck, are you okay?” Julie asked, fear seeping into her voice.

“I- I was-” The blonde tried to force out the words, voice quivering, “There was pain, and- and- and blood.” He placed his free hand over his stomach, remembering, “Metal. Metal bits were sticking out of- of me.”

Chuck swallowed dryly, recalling the ringing in his ears, the pain and the fear. He recalled how he had fallen to his knees and had slowly pulled the shards out of himself, the metal slicked red and clinking loudly as he dropped it to the ground. Another nearby explosion shook the buildings around him and urged him to leave as quickly as possible, lest he get caught in another blast. Somehow, he had  managed to get himself back on his feet before stumbling away from the scene, blood trickling down the front of his shirt and trailing behind him in fat drops of crimson.

“Breathe.” Dutch told him, eyeing the monitors next to the bed, “You’re safe now.”

Chuck closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, trying to relax. The beeping stopped, but his stomach still gave a dull throb, almost as if the thoughts alone had brought back the ache.

“Maybe we should continue another time.” Dutch began saying, “I really don’t think you’re well enough to-”

“ _It’s fine_.” The blonde snapped.

All three of his friends stared at him, startled. The outburst had taken even Chuck by surprise. He hadn’t meant to sound like that, to sound so angry, but the pain was still lingering and his head felt light from the shock that his own memories had caused. Chuck took several deep breaths and told himself he was in control over and over like a mantra --and after a minute, he was.

“It’s fine.” Chuck repeated quietly, his features blank once again.

If the others were alarmed by his behaviour, they didn’t mention it, though their expressions clearly indicated their shock and hesitation --but most of all: concern.

“Chuckles?” Mike called gently.

The blonde looked at him but spoke to all of them, “I’m sorry but...I really need to know.”

“We understand but just- Just take it easy, okay?” Julie told him.

Chuck nodded briefly, then waited for them to start.

“We tried to find you.” Julie explained, “The moment Mutt’s signal disappeared from our radars, we went looking for you two.”

“When we first saw Mutt’s wreck, we thought the worst.” Dutch followed up, “We realized it was empty though, so we were sure that you’d gotten away safely.”

Julie nodded, “There were Terras all around the crash site so we tried to lure them away to give you guys a better chance. Unfortunately a whole squad of bots found us a moment later so we had to focus on fighting back both sides.” Julie then added quietly, “It was... pretty bad. A lot of Terras got hurt during that firefight.”

“We did what we could.” Dutch told her just as quietly.

Julie paused a moment before continuing, “I found Mike first. Dutch and Texas were still caught in the fight but I managed to slip away unnoticed and began searching the ruins. When I found Mike, I was just glad he was alive. I got him into Nine Lives and we continued looking for you, sure that you had found a safe place, sure that you were just waiting to get picked up-”

She cut herself off, forcing herself to take a shuddering breath as the pain from that day returned to her, tears forming in her eyes. Dutch took over the story to give her time to recover.

“Texas and I had just managed to catch a break when I got a message from the Cablers. They were almost done setting up the EMP cannon but needed us to buy them a little more time. So we split up; Texas drove off, pulling the mobs away, and I went to the Cablers to provide them with some backup.”

“It was a close call and I can’t tell you the relief I felt- we _all_ felt, when the EMP finally fired.” Julie told him, smiling gently once more.

“I remember it going off.” Chuck said quietly, “I remember the air getting heavy and electric at the same time.”

“That’s right.” Dutch chuckled, “My skin still tingles at the thought of it.”

“Anyway, without all those bots, things were much easier.” Julie continued, “The Terras were slowly retreating as well. All there was left to do was find you and... get you home.”

“But Red found me first.”

Mike flinched while Dutch and Julie looked away and shifted uncomfortably. Chuck had said that matter-of-factly and with a deadpan look on his face but it still stung them; to Mike, it even sounded accusatory.

“I’m sorry I lost you, Chuck…” The brunette spoke up, voice barely above a whisper. He held the other’s hand tight in his, speaking to it more than Chuck, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there, I should’ve kept an eye out for you. You were right beside me and somehow I still- I should’ve- I’m sorry. I failed you-”

“ _Mike_.” Chuck snapped.

For the second time, the three Burners startled at once, shocked by the blonde’s sharp tone --severe and tinged with anger. They had never heard him use such a tone. It was so strange to hear it coming from him and they weren’t quite sure how to react.

“Chuck?” Mike eventually called out softly. He sounded like how a kicked dog looked.

Chuck sighed heavily, “It wasn’t your fault, Mike.”

He was calm again, back to his gentle self, and while that seemed to settle Mike down, Dutch and Julie stealthily exchanged looks. They were both wondering about the blonde’s mood swings and finding themselves somewhat concerned by them.

“Um, well, now that you’re all caught up, you probably want to rest.” Dutch said, making as though to leave.

“Not quite.” Chuck told him. Dutch froze still.

“Not quite what?” Julie raised an eyebrow but a chill went through her.

Chuck paused a moment before asking what they had been afraid of, “What happened after Red found me?”

The room instantly became silent as a grave. Chuck noticed that Mike was squeezing his hand too much and while it was getting somewhat painful, he said nothing; the pain kept him focused. He also realized that he was being inconsiderate of his friends’ feelings by asking so bluntly but his need to know had long overridden both his patience and his usually mild demeanour. He would ask for their forgiveness later. Right now, he had to know the truth.

“We had just grouped up when it happened.”

They all turned to look at Mike. Dutch and Julie were surprised to hear him speak but not by the strain in his voice or the fury simmering just beneath his facade of calmness. Chuck looked at the brunette and saw the dark expression on his face, sensed the anger and pain, the fear and guilt that still clung to him from that day. He did not comment though, merely waited for Mike to continue.

“ _Red_.” Mike spat out the name like poison, “We were just about to spread out and look for you when _he_ showed up. He stood there with one of his Hounds, bloody and beaten but smug. So fucking _smug_.”

…

_“Looking for someone?” Red laughed, a wheezy, pained sort of sound._

_The Burners all whirled around to face him. Red was leaning heavily against the side of the Hound that accompanied him. He was clearly injured, his helmet cracked and blood dripping from the many tears in his suit, yet he still somehow managed to look menacing. They didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking._

_Dutch and Julie stared in a mix of horror and rage while Texas growled at him, holding his limp arm but still raring for a fight. Mike, using his staff as a crutch to keep the weight off his broken leg, outright snarled just as viciously as Red himself might have._

_“You bastard!” Mike shouted, “You must be mad to show your fucking face to us!”_

_“Mad?” He mused before shrugging, “Maybe I am.”_

_“What do you want from us? Haven’t you already caused enough damage?”_

_“Heh, enough damage? No, not enough. Never enough.” He laughed, though a violent shudder interrupted him. He slipped forward and almost fell, his knees apparently buckling under him, but the Hound’s head caught him and offered support._

_“Are you seriously picking a fight with us?” Dutch said, “It’s four against one and you can’t even stand.”_

_Red had straightened up and now stared them down through his cracked visor. He seemed to hesitate though, as if he hadn’t thought his plan all the way through and was just starting to waver in his conviction._

_“I have something of yours.” He eventually said._

_His voice sounded startlingly hollow and devoid of madness this time. Julie and Dutch considered the sudden change in him and exchanged looks, worried that it might be a trap. Mike, however, didn’t even notice. He dragged himself a step forward and bared his teeth._

_“Is that supposed to be a threat?”_

_“No. Just a gesture of goodwill.” Red replied simply._

_Mike was about to retort something nasty when his heart suddenly froze. From the back of the Hound, Red had pulled Chuck’s limp and bloody body down. The other three Burners gasped loudly as he unceremoniously threw him to the ground before Mike’s feet. The blonde never made a sound, his form crumpled on the floor like a ragdoll._

_Mike looked from Chuck to Red, too stunned to move, too stunned to speak. It was Julie who reacted first._

_“Chuck!” She shrieked._

_Julie ran to him, dropped to her knees and gathered him up in her arms. She brushed the blood and dirt caked hair out of his pale face and called his name over and over again, trying to get him to wake up. Tears began running down her face as understanding dawned on her._

_“Oh my god.” She whispered, “Chuck, oh my god, no-”_

…

“You weren’t moving when Red tossed you down.” Dutch said quietly, “Mike scared him off while Julie was cradling you in her arms except… she couldn’t feel your heartbeat and then you- you stopped breathing, man.”

There was a long pause before Julie finished the point for him, tears welling up in her eyes, “Chuck, you died in my arms.”

“I’m so sorry...” Mike said weakly.

The room once more fell into silence. Chuck let himself slide lower into the bed, eye absently gazing at the ceiling as the truth slowly sank in. So Red had indeed killed him --or at least, he had tried to, since he was obviously not dead. It felt weird to think about it so dryly, yet he couldn’t muster any real emotion. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been conscious to experience it, hadn’t been awake when Julie had held him and cried, or when his friends had carried his broken body to the hospital-

“Wait, but…” Chuck began, confused, “If I died out there, how did I get here? How am I alive?”

Julie let out a half-sob, half-laugh, a tear rolling down her cheek before she could stop it, “Good point.”

“Jacob revived you.” Mike answered.

“Jacob was there?”

“Yeah, he- He was like a godsend!” Dutch picked up, “I don’t know how but he found us barely a minute after your heart stopped. If it hadn’t been for him you, uh...” He took a deep breath, “Well, you would have stayed dead.”

“He had a d-fib on Sasquatch and from the look on his face, it was clear he had hoped to never use it.” Julie said quietly.

“Jacob started doing compressions and like, CPR. I don’t really know, I’m no medic but...” The artist paused, then added, “We only found out about the broken ribs _after_ we got to the hospital.”

“Anyway, he managed to get a faint heartbeat and then steady it with the d-fib, I guess.” Julie said with a sniff, tears still threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, the rest sort of happened in a blur. We got you into my car, with Mike holding you and Jacob stuffed in the middle in case your heart stopped again and-” She gave a short, forced laugh, “I’ve never driven so fast in my life! We arrived at the hospital and, and- the people there. Here. They put you on a bed and yelled at us before taking you away and then- and- then-”

She stopped herself, clearly too distressed to continued talking.

“And here we are.” Dutch finished for her, “Four weeks later.”

“Yeah…” Julie nodded.

Mike just kissed Chuck’s hand and smiled tiredly as he put it against his cheek. Chuck smiled a bit too, stroking the brunette’s cheek with his thumb, endeared by the way Mike closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Thank you.” Chuck said after a moment.

“Chuck, what- why thank you?” Dutch asked, confused.

“For telling me the truth.” He replied, “And for not giving up on me.”

“Chuck, we’d never give up on you!” Julie exclaimed just as Dutch, insulted, said, “Who do you take us for?”

The blonde raised his free hand and they both fell quiet. Meanwhile, Mike watched him, curious to know what was on his mind.

“Just… accept my thanks, okay?” Chuck told them.

He sounded exhausted just then, so the two did not dare argue with him; they simply nodded and smiled at him. In the end, they were just glad he had come back to them, awake and alive.

They spent the next little while chatting about what they’d been up to and making a few jokes at Texas’ expense. When they realized Chuck that was struggling to keep awake, they bid him good night, hugged him in turn, then left him with Mike.

Chuck looked at Mike, thumb still absently stroking his cheek. The brunette hadn’t spoken much during that time but, now that they were alone, he needed to ask him something. Something he wouldn’t want the others to hear, let alone the answer Mike may give him.

“Hey Mikey?” He called softly.

“Hmm?” The other roused, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“What… What would you have done if I had died?”

Mike was silent for a long time.

“I don’t know…”

Chuck left it at that.


End file.
